


Simpler in Isolation

by vaughnicus



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blowjobs, Camping AU, Dorks in Love, F/M, Fluff, Language, M/M, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, TW for blood, camping gone wrong, character injury, handjobs, nothing graphic though, or rather, tw for gunshots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 12:06:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/952885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaughnicus/pseuds/vaughnicus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein the group attempts camping and it all goes disastrously wrong, because of course it does. </p><p>But as Jehan would say, only out of the dirtiest places can the healthiest flowers grow. </p><p>(Or as Grantaire would phrase it, the prettiest plants grow in shit, right?)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simpler in Isolation

 "Please."

"No."

"Grantaire, we _need_ you."

" _No._ "

"You used to be a Boy Scout! None of the rest of us even know how to start a fire!"

"Good luck."

"Gran _taire._ "

"Bye."

"I'll bring wine."

" _Bye._ "

"I'll bring dark chocolate. Unlimited dark chocolate."

"Oh my God, Courf, I'm hanging-"

"Enjolras is coming."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"I fucking hate you."

 

* * *

 

Enjolras startled awake at his desk when the door slammed open. A stray paper stuck to his cheek and he absently pulled it away, glancing around for a clock. The one sitting haphazardly atop a nearby stack of books brightly proclaimed that it was nearing four in the afternoon. Cursing, Enjolras stood, stretching his arms high above his head. He'd come in before lunch to get some studying done and had stayed longer than he anticipated - long enough to tire himself out by his afternoon slump, it seemed.

Excited chatter bounced into his room from his, Combeferre, and Courfeyrac's shared dorm, reminding him of what had broken his slumber. With a sigh, he stacked his notes into a pile and did the same with his books before exiting the room.

The two other occupants of the house greeted him enthusiastically when he arrived in their sight - too enthusiastically for a normal afternoon.

"What's going on?" He asked warily, padding into the kitchen to make toast.

Courfeyrac pouted. "Well don't act all suspicious. Is it really so out of the ordinary for best friends to be happy to see one another?"

"No," Enjolras replied, digging out the apricot jam, "but you asking me whether it is or not is."

Courf paused. "Okay, Gandalf. You're right." He skipped ( _skipped_ ) up to Enjolras and smiled brightly at him. "We're going camping."

"Have fun," was the immediate response, it's purveyor turning away to retrieve his toast.

"Oh, we will. And so will you." Combeferre had come out of nowhere, blocking his way. "You're coming with us. It's already planned and sorted; no backing out."

"I did not agree to this. I hate camping. I have to study." Enjolras attempted to dodge around Combeferre, but his friend was too quick, grabbing his wrist before he could go anywhere.

"You've been once when you were eleven and it rained the whole time. I think you can try again. We all need a break and this is it. Semester is over in a week and we're taking the weekend after that to road trip up to those mountainous grounds you're always petitioning to save. If you can't find any other motivation to join all of your best friends on a relaxing, gorgeous getaway, then tell yourself it's so you can actually know what you're protecting."

Enjolras folded under the calm verbal assault, blinking at Combeferre with an irritated set to his mouth. He was quiet for a moment.

Then, "my toast is burning."

"Good! We leave that Saturday after lunch."

 

* * *

 

 **Combeferre** 12:24 PM

so there's a slight problem

 

 **Enjolras** 12:24 PM

Already? What is it?

 

 **Combeferre** 12:25 PM

well we already booked all the cars,  
meaning my van and courf's. but he  
just invited someone else and there's  
no room. chetta's car's in the shop and  
courf's only has 2 seats after the  
Incident last month.

 

 **Enjolras** 12:27 PM

They can drive themselves.

 

 **Combeferre** 12:28 PM

they can't.

 

 **Enjolras** 12:29 PM

Why not? He didn't invite  
a minor, did he?

 

 **Combeferre** 12:30 PM

no. doesn't matter.  
can you bring your car?

 

 **Enjolras** 12:32 PM

You owe me.

 

 **Combeferre** 12:34 PM

don't go there.

 

* * *

 

Saturday dawned sunny and mild. Enjolras walked outside with his duffel and allowed himself to believe that maybe this wouldn't be totally hellish. After all, Combeferre was right. He hadn't tried any sort of serious outdoor excursion for years, and another one with everyone he cared about could be good for him. He was already more relaxed than he'd been in months, with the semester over and a solid couple of weeks open for planning and protest work.

Yeah, this could be good. It'd bring them all together; bond them before they had to get down to business.

"Enjolras!"

Jehan gestured excitedly from beside Courfeyrac's lime green Honda. Smiling, Enjolras made his way over to the poet.

"Good morning, Jehan. How many of us are here?"

"Almost everyone. Combeferre had to pick up some supplies and Eponine is with him. Bossuet, Courfeyrac, and Bahorel are figuring out our route on the one map someone bothered to bring. Um, Musichetta is making sandwiches for lunch with Joly, and Feuilly is packing up the rest of the food. Cosette and Marius couldn't make it. They said they had an emergency - something about Cosette's father and some detective guy? I don't know. Anyway, they sent snacks. I think that's about everyone. Oh! There's also G-"

"Enjolras!" Courfeyrac appeared around the car, smiling broadly. "You made it. Where's your car?"

"Near the front of the lot. So who's going with me?"

"The last person to claim a seat, I'd guess. Combeferre's here!"

Mildly confused but not willing to unseat his good mood, Enjolras shrugged and turned towards the beat-up but well-kept minivan Combeferre had found at a junkyard and fixed up three years ago. Eponine leapt out of the passenger side before the van had stopped, much to the driver's dismay, and skipped over to Enjolras.

"Hey, Blondie. Thanks for lending your engine. How goes it?"

"Eponine," Enjolras greeted with a longsuffering chuckle. "It goes well. I mean, I'm still not sure _why_ I had to 'lend my engine...' Everyone's being oddly mysterious about it."

At that, Eponine laughed loudly. "Are they? Couldn't imagine why. Courf invited the only survival expert we have in our midst. Well, I say expert..."

Just as Enjolras was about to snap from sheer bemusement, Grantaire dropped ungracefully out of the side of the van. He was ruffled and bleary-eyed, as though he'd just woken up.

"You've got to be kidding me."

Eponine only laughed again, slapping a hand roughly onto his shoulder. "It'll be good for you two, trust me."

Enjolras glared, but she was already returning to Combeferre's side, slipping her arm through his offered one. Grantaire glanced around a moment before his gaze fell on Enjoras. His eyes widened in surprise and then narrowed in some sort of realization, and he looked around a moment more before stomping towards Courfeyrac.

The scrawny brunettte didn't see him coming until Grantaire told hold of his shoulder and spun him around, face imposingly dark.

"Grantaire! Good to see you, buddy." Courf said cheerily, blatantly ignoring the painter's irritation.

"You told me he was coming. Combeferre told me on the way over I'd be in the 'spare car' with 'someone I could tolerate.' Both of you failed to mention the fact that person was _Enjolras_ and I'd need to spend _four hours alone_ in a _small space_ with him."

"I thought you'd be overjoyed," Courfeyrac replied smoothly with a smirk just this side of evil.

"I am going to fu-"

"Grantaire."

It was almost funny how pale Grantaire got. Courfeyrac actually reached out to steady him and was quickly shoved away.

"Enjolras," Grantaire said casually, turning with a polite smile. "Guess I'm riding with you."

The blonde nodded. "So it would seem to have been planned."

"Don't get too excited," came the sarcastic reply.

"Eponine tells me you're our resident survivalist...?" He sounded highly doubtful, and Grantaire just smiled ruefully.

"Life Scout R, at your service."

"Seriously?"

"Yep." Grantaire leaned back on his heels, sticking his hands into their pockets. "My mom had this grand dream of her little darling becoming a famous explorer. Or something. That one kinda died with her."

Enjolras blinked. "Oh."

"Looks like it's finally becoming useful, though. That's new for you, isn't it? Me being useful."

Brow furrowed, Enjolras opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by Bahorel's booming voice. Grantaire turned towards their bearded friend and Enjolras frowned, stowing his response away for later. They did have a four-hour drive together, after all.

"All right, guys. We're ready to go. Combeferre is going to take the lead, followed by Courf and Enjolras. The camp site's pretty far from here, so we're going to try to stick close to each other, but we all have cell phones if someone gets lost. We're taking the freeway most of the way; it's not too difficult. We haven't scheduled any stops, so call if you have to pee. Any questions?" No one spoke up, and Bahorel grinned, clapping his hands together. "Okay. Let's get going."

Everyone piled into their respective vehicles while Grantaire followed Enjolras to his Subaru, and the former huffed in amusement.

"So is it really made of love?"

Enjolras gave him a look as they climbed into their respective seats, really getting tired of being so confused in one morning. " _What?_ "

"Your car. Is it made of love? You know, like in the commercials."

Enjolras rolled his eyes heavenward as he started the engine. This could be a long ride.

Then, "sorry. I'll shut up if you want. I've gone longer than four hours without talking."

It was a tempting offer. But. "No, you're fine. Sorry, I've just... had a weird morning."

"Right."

Despite Enjolras' answer, they didn't converse much the first half hour. Grantaire flipped on the radio after awhile and found a classic rock station having a special on the Rolling Stones. He sat back, satisfied, and tapped his fingers to the various beats. A little while later, he glanced over and saw Enjolras quietly singing along to 'Sympathy for the Devil.'

"You're a Stones fan?" He asked incredulously.

Enjolras lifted an eyebrow. "Anyone with any respect for music is. They're talented musicians and relatively indelible in the music industry."

"You, my friend, are an enigma."

"I focus on my pragmatic and politically-oriented goals; it doesn't mean I have no appreciation for the artistic side of life. In fact, I frequently wish I had more time to explore it."

"Well," Grantaire said, looking pensive, "if anyone could help you explore art, it's me. I mean, it's one of the few things I can claim to be experienced in."

"That and thriving in the wilderness, apparently," Enjolras remarked.

"I don't know that I would say 'thriving.' 'Barely surviving,' maybe. I never made it to an Eagle Scout."

"Isn't Life Scout just one step down from that, though?" At Grantaire's curious look, Enjolras explained, "past hearing about it as a boy, I've done some research into the program for my fight against their homophobic policies."

"Right," Grantaire drawled, smirking. "I suspect I wouldn't have made it to a Cub Scout had they made any actual effort to know about my personal life."

"Oh." Enjolras looks surprised. "You're...?"

"Gay? I'd say extremely. You didn't know?"

Enjolras shrugged. "It never occurred to me. You've never brought anyone to our meetings."

"No one to bring." Grantaire shifted uncomfortably in his seat, fiddling with his phone. "So. The Stones. You into any other classic bands?"

"Well, yeah." Enjolras was quick to drop the subject, though he did send Grantaire a sidelong glance. "I'll always respect the Beatles for their contributions to history. You'd be hard pressed to find any modern song that doesn't spring from some part of their influence."

"Amen."

"And Bob Dylan made huge leaps in breaking the social barriers between genres."

"And could rock the harmonica."

Having found an unlikely common interest, the two were wrapped in conversation for the better part of the trip, analyzing, debating, and agreeing with uncommon frequency.

Other subjects sprung from that one, and neither noticed the other two cars drifting farther and farther away until Enjolras' loud, old-fashioned ringtone nearly gave both of them an aneurysm. He freed it from his jeans as Grantaire slapped at the radio's off switch.

"Hello?"

"Enjolras? It's Eponine. Where are you guys?"

He glanced at the open road ahead of him, finally registering the lack of his friend's cars.

"Oh. Um... still on the freeway?"

"Jesus. We got off like ten minutes ago because Jehan had to pee. We would have called but you were right behind us so everyone assumed you'd follow, and then we all went inside and no one noticed you hadn't. Well, do you know where the campground is?"

Enjolras paused, licking his lips. Grantaire's gaze snapped to the window. "I've got the address memorized. We can probably make it if you guys don't mind us going ahead. It's pretty directly off the freeway, right?"

There was a lull, and the muted sounds of Eponine talking to someone off the line. "Okay, that should work. Combeferre says you just take exit 245 and then follow the signs."

"245. Noted. Thanks. We'll wait for you guys there, then."

He hung up and put the phone away, humming absently. "They got off a while back for a rest stop, but it's easy enough to get there without following anyone. They're close behind so I'm just going to keep driving."

"Okay. Cool with me."

Enjolras peered at him, head tilted. "I didn't know you could be so agreeable."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that at every meeting you go to, which for reasons I may never understand is pretty much all of them, you argue with everything I say."

Grantaire sighed. "Well, that's politics. And belief and petitioning and shit. They're all flammable subjects. This is just... hanging out."

"Why _do_ you come to the meetings, if you don't believe in anything we're fighing for?"

"Heh. _That_ has something to do with why I've never brought anyone to them. Or... it did."

Enjolras frowned, looking oddly hurt. "What, you have nothing better to do?"

"Oh my God, you ob - no. That's not what I meant. At all."

"Then what did you mean?"

Grantaire groaned, dropping his head against the back of his seat. "You know, if you haven't figured it out by now I feel like it's cheating us both if I just up and _tell_ you."

"I don't understand."

"No, you really don't. Hey, when you said 245 were you talking about the exit?"

Enjolras looked up and cursed, swerving the car over the white line into the exit lane. "You couldn't have said that sooner?"

"Well, I assumed you saw it. I mean, you _are_ driving."

"Fuck off."

Grantaire went oddly silent at that, and Enjolras glanced over to see him staring out the window, a faint blush on his cheek. He shifted again and cleared his throat.

"So where do we go now that we've taken the exit?"

"The grounds should be just off the road here; it's on... um..."

Grantaire snorted. "Have the address memorized, do you?"

"Well, I _did_. It's been awhile since we were last involved with saving the grounds." He surveyed the landscape, fingers drumming on the steering wheel. "Combeferre said just to follow the signs. I'm assuming they'll be popping up soon - keep your eyes open."

"Wouldn't dream of closing them," Grantaire quipped. "Not around you."

"What, you don't trust me?"

Groaning, Grantaire slid down in his seat and planted his face in both hands. Enjolras nearly took his hands off the wheel just to throw them helplessly into the air.

"Sorry! Apparently I lost the ability to correctly interpret things today!"

They fell into an easy silence after that, both of them searching intently out the windows for any sort of indicator they were near the campgrounds. After a few minutes of this, Enjolras shook his head and groped for his phone, pulling it out of his jeans pocket. He glanced at it and then swore, tossing the device into his cupholder.

"No service."

Grantaire huffed. "Figures." He peered ahead, mouth drawn up quizzically. "That road up there goes off into the mountains. I don't see a sign, but it's probably worth a look. It might have gotten knocked down or something."

Enjolras shrugged, depressing the brake to turn. "Might as well. There hasn't been anything else and Combeferre said it was right off the freeway. If this doesn't pan out we'll just drive back to where we had service and call."

He turned down the road and accelerated, eager to regain their bearings. After less than a minute, a green sign came into view proudly proclaiming there were campgrounds half a mile ahead, and Grantaire let out a triumphant yell.

They finally pulled into the small packed-dirt parking lot a few minutes later, and Grantaire was quick to hop out of the car. Enjolras exited at a more sedate pace, pausing to stretch once unfolded from the driver's seat.

"Is there a bathroom? Do you see a bathroom? There are some brochures over there... Seriously, even a Port-A-Potty." Grantaire was shifting anxiously from foot to foot, glancing about. Enjolras gave him a look.

"You do realize we're going camping? They aren't going to have any bathrooms in the middle of the wilderness."

"Which is why I wanted to take my last shred of luxury while it was offered," Grantaire said petulantly, but he headed off to the trees.

Enjolras sauntered to the brochure stand, eyeing the water-damaged pamphlets with consternation. Most were on the various hiking trails or adverts for things to do in nearby towns, but there was one that boasted a catalogue of edible plants that he took to shove into his back pocket, thinking it might be fun to look through later.

Grantaire returned swiftly and they stood a bit awkwardly for a moment.

"They haven't called, so I'm going to assume they're on their way. We could walk out a little bit and see which trail looks the most... interesting while we wait."

Enjolras didn't look very confident in the suggestion but Grantaire nodded anyway, and they stepped into the forest on a wide, oft-tred dirt path. They didn't go far, careful to keep track of the direction they'd come from and trying to keep the lot within view, but still managed to scope out a few of the trails leading away and found one with a moderate slope and a minimal amount of overgrowth. They then headed back to the car, certain the rest of the group would be waiting.

"So by that time Joly will probably be convinced he's coming down with malaria anyways, and we can all - _holy shit_."

Grantaire stopped so abruptly Enjolras nearly tripped and was immediately on alert.

"What? What is... oh."

He'd followed Grantaire's line of sight and quickly realized it was a more dangerous and frankly _ridiculous_ situation than he'd have ever bet on.

There was a bear by the car. A huge, brown bear ambling along the bumper, happily sniffing at the metal. It had yet to notice them.

"Oh my God. What do we do? Is it one of those ones you can scare off?"

Grantaire shook his head firmly, motioning for Enjolras to be quiet. He slowly backed away, face pale as he prayed for the wind to be with them. Enjolras had grown rather white himself and moved alongside him, lips pressed tightly together.

They continued their reverse slink for a good two minutes. And then Grantaire spun around and began marching through the brush, quiet and stiff. He continued on this way until the woods around them became unfamiliar and the fear of losing their way became a real possibility. And then he stopped, rather suddenly, and leaned against a tree, breathing out slowly.

"You all right?" Enjolras asked, despite looking more than a little shaken himself.

"Fine," Grantaire replied, waving any concern away. "I just.... God, I hate bears. They start out so cute and then turn into enormous death machines."

Enjolras snorted. "Death machines?"

"Hey, you were just as freaked as I was. That thing was fucking _huge._ "

"It was pretty big," Enjolras agreed. He then straightened up and looked around, trying to puzzle out how far they'd gone. "We should head back as soon as you think it will be gone. The others are probably here by now, and their car approaching should have scared it off if nothing else, right?"

Grantaire didn't look so sure, but nodded. "I guess. Bears are hard to predict."

"So... should we go back?"

"I - I don't know."

Enjolras sighed harshly, eyes rolling heavenward, and Grantaire frowned. "I'm sorry I don't have bear telepathy, jeez."

"Oh, don't be like that."

"Like what? Myself?"

Hands fisting in frustration, Enjolras looked away, jaw set. Grantaire took it as the answer it probably wasn't and chuckled lowly. The nervous tension he'd been feeling since realizing who he had to ride with rose back up and finally boiled over.

"You know what? I'm sorry you got saddled with me, Enjolras. I really am. I know I'm the last person you'd want to be with and I'm sorry. Why don't I give you some space?"

_Oh God, you melodramatic idiot, what the fuck are you doing?_

Despite his surge of sense, he was walking away through the dry underbrush in an apparenty random direction before he could get ahold of himself. Enjolras started after him immediately, and if Grantaire had been looking back, he would have seen the flash of panic that crossed the blond's face.

"Where the hell are you going?" Okay, that's definitely not what he meant to say. "Sorry, no. That's not - will you stop?"

Grantaire did, briefly, halting in his tracks and spinning to face Enjolras. He spread his arms, posture radiating exasperation but expression broadcasting something much more vulnerable.

"I can't do this. I've been in the car with you for four hours already and we're alone in the fucking woods and you're just getting pissed, I mean of course you are why wouldn't you be but I can't fucking take it."

He turned on his heel and started marching away. Enjolras, taken aback, had to shake free his shock-frozen muscles to follow.

"Grantaire, wait!"

"Why should I? I'm giving you what you want, Enjolras. Can you please just-"

Enjolras never got to hear Grantaire's request because the ground chose that time to give way beneath the artist and send him tumbling down a steep bank that had previously been hidden by the brush. Enjolras shouted for him and lunged unthinkingly, tragically miscalculating the movement and sending himself over the edge as well.

Fortunately for them both, the bank ended in a river. Unfortunately, it was a rather large, violent river. And it was _freezing._

Enjolras fought his immediate reaction to heave in gasp when he found himself underwater. The cold reached into him, cutting through muscle and bone and severely limiting his movement. Brain on red alert, he forced himself to swim, pulling at the water and praying he was heading in the right direction. His hand broke the surface seconds later and he kicked, just barely getting his head above water to breathe before being forced under again. He'd seen rocks up ahead and battled to reach the river's side, eyes wide open in the clear water to search frantically for Grantaire.

But after another few moments, the temperature was starting to affect him. His thoughts were growing as sluggish as his movements, and a stray worry about how fast this was all happening slipped through his comprehension. He wanted to find Grantaire but was realizing that if he didn't get himself out soon he'd be no help at all to the artist.

That thought in mind, he angled himself towards the last place he'd seen the bank. He was able to get himself to the surface again but couldn't quite stay there, dunking beneath the rushing waves with every other stroke. A particularly strong current hit his legs and he was pulled under, completely losing the little sense of direction he'd had.

As he was forced further beneath the surface, he realized he should feel much more concerned about this. His mind registered danger but his muscles would follow no commands but 'relax.'

Either he was getting really deep or his vision was starting to black out. He needed to surface but couldn't get his arms to move right, and damn, that worry was starting to kick it up a notch.

Just as he was about to give up and breathe in just to relieve the pressure in his chest, an arm closed around his waist and he was being towed up. It took him too long to recognize that someone was pulling him and even longer to try and help, though he didn't do much good. How the hell were they still moving so quickly?

They finally reached the surface and any questions flew from Enjolras' mind as he gasped in a lungful of warm, misty air. With the influx of oxygen came a semblance of sense and Enjolras feebly kicked his legs, suspecting he wasn't helping at all but continuing to do so until they reached the bank. The arm around him tightened, dragging him onto the mossy ground, and then let go. There was a brief scrabbling next to him followed by a quiet but heartfelt ' _fuck,_ ' and then Grantaire was filling his vision. He was pale and sopping wet, and if Enjolras didn't know better he would swear the other man looked _scared._

"Enjolras? God, shit, fuck. Enjolras. Are you okay? _Fuck_. Are you hurt? Can you move?"

Under the barrage of speech, Enjolras opted to not respond, instead pushing into a sitting position and giving Grantaire an attempt at a reassuring smile. The dark-haired man looked instantly relieved, falling into a slouch and carding a hand through his tangled, wet curls.

"Oh my God. I'm so sorry."

"What the hell for?"

Grantaire looked up, surprised. "Well, for tripping over myself and sending us both into the rapids of a river, for starters."

"I think we can forgive that in light of you saving my life. Jesus. How the hell are you so strong, anyway?"

"I..." Grantaire blinked; blushed. "You - I'm not... I kickbox some? Anyway, I mean. We wouldn't have ever even fallen if I hadn't been such a bitch to you. So... sorry." He stood then, seeming satisfied at having brought the blame back to himself. "Now." He glanced at Enjolras before looking away again. "Take off your clothes."

"Pardon?"

Grantaire rolled his eyes, though his fading blush returned stronger. "Don't make this weird." He started to pull at his sweatshirt. "We're both soaked. We've got to lay out our clothes to dry before the sun goes down, and bare skin dries faster anyway."

Silently, Enjolras nodded and began stripping off his wet clothes. Grantaire pointedly didn't watch but knew he'd have to look at Enjolras eventually, and, well... This was not how he wanted to get the revolutionary out of his pants.

He really needed a drink.

 

* * *

 

Combeferre stepped out of his slouch against the van, frowning deeply. He approached Eponine, who was staring down the road with her phone in hand.

"They should be here by now."

She turned to him, mouth quirked in concern. "They should've been here before us. They would have called if they stopped."

"Neither of them are picking up their phones."

"Shit. Well we didn't see a flaming wreck on the way here. Where are they?"

Combeferre shook his head. "I don't know. You told them exit 245, right?"

"Yeah."

Feuilly's voice interrupted their conversation, the man calling them over to the map he'd laid out. The others were already crowded around it, brows collectively furrowed.

"Eponine," Feuilly said, gesturing to a spot on the map. "We may have figured it out. Did you tell them 245 _b_?"

She gasped. "Seriously, there are two? No, I just said 245!" She turned to Combeferre to smack his arm. "Why didn't you say 245b?"

"Ow!" He pulled away from her with a petulant frown. "I didn't know there were two, either. I was following the GPS and didn't notice the b."

"Guess we figured it out, then," Courfeyrac chirped. They must not have cell service wherever they are. Or their phones are dead. Or Enjolras threw them out the window after Grantaire was texting during a political argument, who knows? I hope they haven't gone far."

"Come on," Musichetta suddenly barked. "Let's go. We can drive down their exit. Either they figured it out and are headed back to try and find service or they actually found a campground and are wondering where the hell _we_ are."

"Wait," Combeferre ordered, stilling all those who had jumped into movement. "If they figured it out they might be on their way here. Some of us should stay. In case they can't get service and pass you somehow."

There was a subtle murmur of agreement, but no one seemed eager to stay behind. Sighing, Combeferre moved to the curb and sat.

"All right. You all go. I'll wait here - there really only needs to be one of us, anyway. Musichetta, you can drive the van, but if you hurt her I will end you."

Grinning but nodding responsibly, Musichetta caught the keys thrown her way. "Thank you, Combeferre. We'll be back before you know it."

Eponine looked between the group and Combeferre, frowning, before breaking away from her friends to sit next to the sandy-haired student. He glanced at her, surprised, and she only smiled.

"Can't let you get too bored. If you fall asleep, they might miss you."

"And they'll definitely miss you two if you run off to fool around in the woods," Courfeyrac called before climbing into the driver's seat of his car. Eponine only rolled her eyes, not hiding her delight at the way Combeferre's cheeks flamed.

The rest of the group was quick to pile into the two vehicles and were soon driving away, waving out the windows.

"You make it too easy for him," Eponine accused, but she sounded far too fond for the statement to be any sort of effective.

 

* * *

 

Enjolras was confused.

Grantaire was not a modest man. He'd come into the Musain without a shirt or pants on once, and when questioned about his state of dress, had only said 'strip poker' as an answer with a wide, lecherous grin. He'd been granted a blanket from the corner soon enough, but before that he'd been perfectly comfortable to sprawl in his normal seat as though nothing was out of the ordinary. (And yes, he'd been wearing briefs.)

And Enjolras knew for a fact it wasn't just his own partial or complete nudity (and they weren't even going to talk about _that_ occurrence) that he didn't mind - it was others', too. When questioned about this mysterious game of strip poker, he'd gleefully taught the rest of them how it went, and when Courfeyrac had surprised no one by losing disastrously, Grantaire had been among the few of them without a blush on his face.

So why he was now refusing to look at Enjolras, who had even kept his underwear on, and would hardly talk to him at all, was a mystery.

And after a half hour of muttering and quickly averted glances, Enjolras lost a bit of his cool. He took Grantaire by the shoulder, completely ignoring the way it caused the painter's eyes to widen and then try to dart away before returning or the way it caused his cheeks to burn or his hands to clench or his well-formed chest to inflate -

Grantaire coughed awkwardly and Enjolras snapped his gaze back to the other man's face.

"What is your problem?"

He looked genuinely confused for a moment. "What do you mean?"

Enjolras rolled his eyes and stepped back, though he was tensed to move if Grantaire tried to turn away again. If they kept tiptoeing around each other he might explode. He wasn't one for restraint, after all.

"You won't look at me and you'll hardly talk to me."

"It'd be a little awkward if I kept staring, wouldn't it?"

"I didn't say you should _stare_. I just - you're the most shameless person I know - in, you know, not a bad way - you just... you don't _care_ , so I'd just like to know what's different this time."

Grantaire shuffled awkwardly, biting his lip. "I just. It's. We're - we're alone in the woods and all but naked. That doesn't... seem weird to you?"

"It's _not_ weird. You said yourself not to _make_ it weird because it's logical. Is it me? You're never like this when anyone else is... exposed."

"When have you seen me around anyone _exposed?_ "

"Oh, come on, Courfeyrac takes his clothes off all the time."

"Courfeyrac," Grantaire said, eyes rolling heavenward, "is an exception to everything. The man is made of shamelessness. I don't think anyone even notices when he starts to strip anymore."

Enjolras pursed his lips, frustrated. "Okay. Point taken. But... could you just.... be normal? You're acting like I've got the plague."

"Right, okay, sure," Grantaire said, lifting his hands helplessly.

As if to prove his point, he met Enjolras' eyes while responding. But his gaze couldn't stick there and it soon dropped to his chest. And then his abdomen. And then lower.

And then Grantaire looked back up and his cheeks flamed and he turned away, muttering something that included the words 'hell,' 'I'm,' and 'fucking marble.'

Enjolras pushed away the flurry of confusing emotions that came with being observed in such a way by Grantaire to say, "so, should we stay here? I mean, I've heard that if you're lost you should stay in one place."

"Which is good advice, but I'd say no. Not this time. If we follow the river back up, we can find where we fell and hopefully get back to the car. Or our friends, because they're probably looking for us. It's warm now but it's going to be a hell of a lot colder as soon as it gets dark, so we should get moving soon."

He immediately started towards the large rock where their clothes were drying and snatched his up.

"These are just damp now... they should be dry soon, even with us carrying them."

Okay, maybe this wasn't the _best_ plan. But he needed to move; to do _something_ other than stand around with a barely-clothed Enjolras wondering why he couldn't make eye contact.

"We'll probably be able to put them back on soon," - _thank God_ \- "but not before they're dry or it'll chafe."

With that, he slung his shirt and jeans over his shoulder, intent on beginning the hike back, but he froze as something solid hit his spine. For a moment, he almost thought Enjolras had thrown something, but he quickly realized that, no, there was something in his jeans.

The next epiphany hit seconds later.

" _Shit._ "

Ignoring Enjolras' befuddled look, he scrambled to pull the jeans off his shoulder so he could reach the pocket where his no-doubt waterlogged phone resided. He found it and pulled it out and the frown on Enjolras' face turned into a wince.

Despite having braced himself for the inevitable, Grantaire still felt his heart sink as he pushed the power button to no avail. He flipped the device over and pried open the battery pack, letting out a wounded noise at the flooded chamber.

"That's... unfortunate," came Enjolras' sypmathetic voice, much closer than Grantaire excpected. He jumped and fumbled his phone, dropping it onto a rock where it emitted a sharp crack and fell to the ground, the screen noticeably fractured.

Enjolras hopped back, cursing. "Sorry! I - shit - sorry!"

Grantaire just sighed. "It was dead, anyway."

 

* * *

 

Musichetta pulled the van off the freeway, following exit 245b. She scanned the wide, flat grounds around them, a small frown pulling tight the corners of her mouth.

"I don't see anything. Didn't we direct them towards signs or something?" Bossuet was next to her in the passenger's seat, clutching his phone while searching the horizon. "How far would they have gone?"

"Well, probably as far as it took before they saw something. God damn it, why aren't their phones working?"

"Do you have service? It's scarce out here. If you don't, they probably don't."

Bossuet glanced down at his phone, brow creased. "Well... I don't really. But my phone always gets worse reception than everyone else's."

Musichetta smiled at him, verging on amused. "Stop worrying. They can't have gone far. Either we'll see them or they'll call Combeferre from the freeway. This isn't a big deal. I think it's rather hilarious, actually. Out of all the people to get lost together, it had to be Enjolras and Grantaire. In fact, I'm starting to wonder if volunteering to look for them was a good idea. If we find them, we're either gonna see a dead body or passionate woodland lovemaking."

From the backseat came a high whine.

"Agh! 'Chetta, why?" Bahorel wailed. "That was _not_ an image I needed in my head. Oh my God, I am not getting out of the car first."

Musichetta was in the middle of an overly snarky reply when Bossuet held up his hand, silencing the vehicle.

"I've got a text from Jehan. He sent it a few minutes ago but it just came through. Says they took a road off the exit because it was close and seemed reasonable and they just saw a sign for some campgrounds."

Musichetta braked and pulled a u-turn in the middle of the road, sending the occupants of the van into various wild sprawls. Bossuet, who'd managed to simultaneously knock his forehead and elbow against the window, pouted as he nursed his wounds. But no one complained vocally, urgent to find their friends even if their casual banter made it seem otherwise.

When Bossuet's phone chimed they all jumped before falling into an eager quiet.

"It's from Jehan," he confirmed. "They followed the road Enjolras might've taken... He says they found their car!"

Musichetta's foot slammed down and no one said a thing when the speedometer crept past 90.

 

* * *

 

Grantaire was leading the way back up the hill when he turned around to ask a question and caught Enjolras looking quickly upwards to meet his gaze, expression broadcasting repressed guilt.

_No fucking way he was just staring at my ass._

Momentarily floundering, Grantaire was lost for words until Enjolras recovered himself and tilted his head in a Look.

"Oh, sorry, I was just - um... wondering if you, you know, remembered any landmarks from where we fell. Also I'm pretty sure we can put our clothes back on."

Enjolras nodded and then froze. "Wait... landmarks? Do you not know where we're going?!"

"No, I... I know the general area of where to go. I'm just not entirely sure of the specifics, exactly. Thought I'd ask - every piece of information is useful."

"Oh. Right." Looking mildly abashed, Enjolras was silent as he pulled on his pants. While slipping into his shirt, he said, "well, we fell from a really high bank. We were in a copse of pine trees - Lodgepole, maybe? Um... it was right at the rapids of the river."

Grantaire nodded along to Enjolras' fact recall, hearing nothing new but grateful all the same.

"Yeah. Right. I don't think we actually went too far, so... I'm sure we'll find it soon."

Enjolras jogged to catch up with Grantaire and walk alongside rather than behind him.

"Okay, good." He was quiet a moment. And then, seemingly out of the blue, he said, "tell me about yourself."

Grantaire looked at him, eyebrow lifted. "What?"

"We've been friends for a long time now, Grantaire. With most of my friends I make a conscious effort to learn about them, but... well, for some reason I don't know that much about you."

"And you _want_ to?"

"Of course I do."

Grantaire slowed his pace, surveying the sunset-tinted trees and shrubbery around them. "What do you want to know?"

"You know... just about you." He bit his lip, eyes momentarily drawn heavenward. "Who's your favorite artist?"

"To look at? Monet," came the quick answer. "His cheerfulnes kind of sickens me, but his brushwork is everything mine isn't, so he's kind of fascinating. In terms of relatability and... other matters, Vincent Van Gogh."

Enjolras smiled. "I see. I haven't seen enough art to form a valid opinion. I would... greatly appreciate it if you could teach me, sometime. Just... a little of the basics. Some history, maybe."

A strange sensation of openness swelled in Grantaire's chest and he allowed himself a quiet smile.

"I could do that."

"Good. Right, good." He cleared his throat. "So... favorite author?"

"Hugo. Or Dostoevsky. I like Dumas for his plots and Hemingway for his language. Of course, this is all excluding Tolkien because that man was born on a different plane..."

Grantaire was too caught up in his explanations to see the fond, longing look Enjolras gave him.

 

* * *

 

Courfeyrac gathered a distressed Jehan into his arms, frowning and pressing a cheek to the poet's head even as Musichetta drove the van into the lot and slammed to a halt. She hopped out of the car, followed by Joly, Bossuet, and Bahorel.

The former approached them, a worried tightness to his expression.

"What is it? That's Enjolras' car - where are they?"

"We don't know," Courf admitted ruefully. "We thought they'd just gotten out to stretch or pee or something, but we've been here for ten minutes and they haven't come back. And we have service, but when we called Enjolras' phone we realized it's in the car, and Grantaire's is either dead or off."

There was a moment of stillness as Courfeyrac's words were processed, and then Bahorel let out what could be called a squeak.

"Oh my God."

Jehan looked at him, tugging restelessly at his braid. "What?"

Musichetta's brows lifted. "Way I see it... we've all felt their frankly disgusting sexual tension, and now they've been alone in a confined space for four hours..." She waited for comprehension to dawn and then shrugged. "How else would Enjolras leave his phone in such an obvious place? The man's neurotic."

"As much as I adore that theory and you for proposing it," Courf said regretfully, "we've been yelling for them out in the woods since we got here. Even if they did run off together to copulate, they're too smart to go that far out of hearing range. Ther were expecting us to be right behind them and wouldn't intentionally worry us, no matter how... excited they were."

The group fell into an uneasy hush. After a moment, Bossuet cleared his throat.

"I'm going to call Combeferre."

 

* * *

 

It was Grantaire who slowed to a stop when they were following a calmer part of the river, _tsk_ ing quietly as he glanced up. Enjolras paused in his monologue on the merits of Fitzgerald to give him a curious glance.

"Something wrong?"

Grantaire bit his lip. "It's going to be dark soon."

Enjolras glanced around, noting the colorful twilight sky. "Oh. Should we... stop?"

"Probably. It's going to get cold and hard to see, and we don't want to fall in the river again. Um..." He stuck a hand in his pocket, gaze towards the trees. "It'd be a good idea to find some shelter, even just under a big tree. Frankly, I don't think it's worth making a lean-to."

"Okay.. lead the way."

Grantaire took them further into the woods, stopping every so often to stack rocks to mark their trail. He eventually located a small grove of cedar trees and circled it as the temperature sank ever lower.

"This should work. Hope you're not scared of spiders."

Enjolras made a face but didn't protest. He followed Grantaire into the middle of the circle of topiary, hesitating when the artist laid down and curled up.

"Something wrong?" Grantaire questioned, echoing Enjolras' earlier question.

"No, I just... are you tired?" He sat carefully as he was speaking, back against a tall tree.

"Nope," Grantaire huffed. "But it's too dark to keep going and there's not exactly much else to do out here."

"We could keep talking."

Grantaire sat up, leaning casually against a nearby trunk to face Enjolras. "We could. I'm still shocked that you find me an acceptable conversationalist. Not that you have much choice in partners at the moment."

Enjolras frowned, thought the expression was hard to see in the low light. "You do yourself a disservice with all of these self-deprecations and assumed shortcomings."

"Ooh, breaking out the polysyllabic words. Is our Apollo getting worked up?"

"I'm serious, Grantaire. Do you really view yourself so lowly?"

"It was a joke, Enjolras," Grantaire sighed, sounding all too weary. "Don't you recognize those anymore?"

"A joke is a singular, humorous occurrence. This... this _subject_ \- you address it consistently. And I don't find it very funny."

Suddenly glad for the darkness so he wouldn't have to keep his reactions is check, Grantaire chuckled bittely.

"Why do you care, Apollo?"

"I would be no friend if I didn't. I only want you to see your own worth. I believe-"

At that, Grantaire turned away, scoffing, and Enjolras fell silent, unsure. Grantaire lay down where he was, heedless of the roots and dirt, and spoke with a surprising amount of vitriol.

"You _believe._ You believe in so many things." His voice fell again, quieter; colder. "Don't make me into one of your causes."

Enjolras did not speak for a few minutes and Grantaire assumed he had fallen asleep until he finally responded softly.

"You aren't a charity, Grantaire," he said, sounding oddly vulnerable. "You never have been."

They spoke no more for a while after that. Grantaire, lost in his thoughts, was slow to notice that Enjolras had begun to shiver. And when he did, he shifted uncomfortably, all too aware of his freakishly high cold tolerance. He was radiating warmth like a space heater.

 _Don't do anything. Don't bother. You're supposed to be mad at him, dammit. He won't appreciate it, anyway. He doesn't want to touch you. God, fuck, you were mad for literally_ two seconds _, jesus I hate him. Don't say anything. Fall asleep. Don't-_

"Are you cold?"

_Fuck._

Enjolras culed into himself, not answering for a moment in a rare display of self-consciousness.

Then, "a little, yes. I'm not exactly used to - what are you doing?"

"Helping," Grantaire stated simply as he slid down behind Enjolras. "I lived in Canada for a couple of years and built up a serious defense to cold. I'm like a Grantaire-shaped oven."

Enjolras stiffened at first when Grantaire settled against his back and slung an arm over his waist, but once their shared warmth began to register, he snuggled ( _snuggled_ ) further back, pressing against Grantaire until their bodies were fully aligned.

Grantaire shut his eyes and breathed deeply, willing his heartbeat to slow. Actually, as long as his dick behaved itself he'd be happy.

"Are you okay, Grantaire?"

Or maybe not.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean it feels like your heart is beating really quickly."

Damn it.

"I, um. I'm just..."

Damn it all to hell.

"Grantaire?"

"Don't worry about it."

"... okay." A pause. "You don't have to do this, you know."

Inwardly groaning, Grantaire shifted back so he could nudge Enjolras' foot with his own.

"Enjolras."

"Yes?"

"Go the fuck to sleep."

 

* * *

 

"It's late and it's dark and we still have no idea where they are. What are we going to do?"

Combeferre put a comforting hand on Jehan's forearm, pushing away his own concerns and bafflement to maintain his steady presence.

"We're going to trust that they know what they'd doing. They're both very smart, and besides, Grantaire is the expert here. They'll be fine for a night, and in the morning we'll get back together and hear their no-doubt ridiculous story of how they went to pee and got hopelessly lost."

Jehan cracked a little smile at that. "Oh... you're right. I love you."

Slightly more perky, he stepped over to Courfeyrac and wound both arms around the taller man's torso.

Combeferre's smile faded as he turned away, and Eponine folded her arms, barely-there lines beside her mouth deepening as she stared out at the dark forest.

"I don't get it," she said quietly. "What the hell happened? And what are we going to do about it?"

"I mean what I said," Combeferre assured, drawing nearer to her. "They'll be fine, and once it gets light we'll be able to find them. Or vice versa, as the case may be."

Eponine nodded and leaned into his shoulder. "Yeah... You know, I can't help but wonder what they're doing out there. Knowing those two, they probably wandered off in the middle of an argument and haven't even noticed where they are."

Combeferre chuckled. "I could see that."

 

* * *

 

Oddly enough, when Enjolras woke, the first sensation he registered was contentment. He was warm and tangled together with someone who felt so much like safety it was hard to even be alarmed by the memory of where he was.

... and who he was with.

... oh.

"You awake?" Grantaire whispered, his breath warm against Enjolras' ear.

"Yes," was the simple answer.

Neither of them moved.

"We should probably get going. Everyone will be worried."

"Right."

Yet still they laid there.

 _Spooning_.

"Grantaire, I..."

"Let's go."

And all of a sudden the warmth was gone and Enjolras battled down a completely unreasonable surge of alarm. He rose more slowly than Grantaire, taking the time to stretch out all the kinks that came with sleeping on the ground. He noticed Grantaire's eyes on him but elected to say nothing... this time.

"Lead the way."

They picked through the brush back to the river, which looked a little more inviting in the early morning sunshine. It was brisk but not unpleasant, and as they walked along the bank in silence, Enjolras found he was almost enjoying himself.

"You know... this isn't so bad."

Grantaire looked sharply at him, seeming to force himself out of a pensive state. "Come again?"

"This could be a lot worse. You're taking us back to our friends, and we haven't really been gone long, and it's a beautiful day. I just... it's kind of... nice. To get away from everything."

"Even with me?"

Enjolras stopped walking. He turned to Grantaire, eyebrows and mouth severe.

"Will you stop that?"

Grantaire shoved a hand through his messy hair, sighing. "Stop what?"

"Do you not even realize you're doing it anymore? Stop... _that._ Degrading yourself. Acting like you're worth nothing."

"Because I am... ?"

Enjolras stepped back, face pained. "Do you really believe that? Really?"

Grantaire started to move away. "Look, I don't know what your sudden interest in me is, but-"

"You're my _friend_ , Grantaire."

"Am I?" Grantaire whirled around, hands thrown in the air. "Am I your friend? Because before now you sure as hell haven't shown much interest in me, and it doesn't exactly inspire confidence that you're doing it now when you have no other choice."

"I..." Enjolras looked away, posture slackening as he realized the truth behind the other man's words.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Now can we please get back to people you actually like?"

It was a few minutes later that Enjolras had collected his thoughts enough to answer, and he kept pace with Grantaire as he spoke, though he avoided eye contact.

"It's not that I don't like you, Grantaire. That's not it at all. It's just... before now, the only times we've ever really interacted are during meetings, and that's usually only because you're arguing with me. I've come out with the group a few times, but... you know me, I tend to stay in the corner with my reports and Combeferre. I realize I come off as insensitive, but the truth is I'm just not good at social interaction. I can give a hell of a speech to a group of radicals, but once I try to talk one on one, I just... stall. I'm sorry. I am. I'd like to get better, especially... especially with you."

Grantaire was quiet, and Enjolras took that as encouragement.

"You confuse me, you know. You act so cynical during meetings, but you're at every protest. You constantly argue with me during meetings, but you've been, well, _pleasant_ the past two days. The whole groups loves you even though you drink and act pessimistic, but they've all spent more time with you than I have. You are an enigma. It's like you're two completely different people. I just... I want to get to know you, and I haven't been able to express that, and I'm sorry."

Their walking had slowed during the charged explanation, and now both of them stopped, Enjolras biting his lip and Grantaire standing so stiffly it looked painful. Enjolras reached out and put a hand on Grantaire's shoulder and was surprised when the artist looked at him. It was hard not to gasp at the rawness in his eyes.

"Enjolras..." he said, voice hoarse.

"... yes?"

"I..." He sucked in a breath, shutting his eyes. But then he opened them again, looking past Enjolras, and a confused furrow appeared between his brows. "Fuck."

"What is it?"

It was strange, Enjolras thought, to be so disappointed when he didn't even know what he'd been expecting.

"I think we went too far."

"Too... far?" Enjolras repeated, withdrawing his hand.

"Yeah. As in, we shouldn't be at this elevation. We passed the place we fell."

Enjolras blinked. "Oh." He quirked an uncoscious smile. "Right. Well, we can just turn around, can't we? I thought you knew where we were going."

Grantaire looked affronted for exactly half a second until he saw Enjolras' teasing expression, and then he just looked confused.

"I thought I did. But you and your... soliloquy distracted me."

"Soliloquy? Really?"

"Oh, hush, I know." Grantaire smirked. "Seriously, though, I think we should - _fuck!_ "

For one brief, fleeting moment, the phrase and interjection ran as one unbroken sentence in Enjolras' mind and he nearly choked on his spit. But then he registered the _pop_ he'd heard and the suddenly dangerous tree next to them that seemed to have exploded.

"Was that a fucking _gunshot?!_ "

Grantaire's disbelieving question was answered when another hit the tree again, closer to his head this time. He swore and ducked away, grabbing Enjolras by the wrist and pulling him as he started to run.

"What the _hell?_ Is this guy mental?"

He kept up a running litany (no pun intended) as they wove through the forest, sprinting over nurse logs and shrubbery in an effort to get out of the weapon's range. They seemed to be almost out of danger when another _pop_ sounded and Grantaire went down with a pained shout. Blood patterned the leaves nearby, spurting in a graceful arc from his right calf.

Enjolras, working on pure adrenaline, pulled Grantaire back up and slung an arm over his shoulders, not thinking about what just happened and focusing on getting them to safety.

And that is, of course, when the ground ran out.

Again.

The forest floor collapsed into a valley wall just feet in front of them. And this time, the fall didn't end in a river. Grantaire, looking behind them to ascertain their level of danger, didn't notice, and Enjolras wasn't quick enough to catch him, despite their close proximity.

Grantaire himself took a step over the edge and flailed backwards, pulling back his foot. But the wound from his earlier near miss chose that moment to make itself known and his leg gave out. He toppled over the ledge, saved only by Enjolras frantically clenching a hand around his forearm.

Next to them was a tree leaning over the gorge with its roots half-exposed and hanging in the open air. It was through these that Grantaire fell, and that was their saving grace.

Enjolras wrapped his free arm around the tree trunk and wedged a foot against a root, halting their fall.

Grantaire hung helplessly from his arms, shocked, staring at Enjolras with wide, alarmed eyes. They were wordless, for a moment, still processing what had just happened and unsure what to do about it.

Then Enjolras nearly slipped, and Grantaire swore, voice an octave or two higher than normal.

"God! Okay. Okay. Hold on, I can get a better position and pull you up," Enjolras said, breathless.

"I can't..." Grantaire didn't finish his sentence, feet scraping uselessly against the dirt and tree roots in front of him. A wince flashed across his face as he tried to work his injured leg.

Enjolras shifted and got his foot more solidly against the tree. "Okay, I think I can help you. Just... I'm going to pull. When you're in reach, climb."

"I can do that," Grantaire managed.

Inhaling deeply, Enjolras threw his weight backwards and strained. And they got a good half foot of lift until the root under Enjolras' foot cracked. Both of them dropped, and Grantaire met Enjolras' eyes just as the blond found another foothold.

Seconds before he settled into it, the feeling in Grantaire's gaze flipped from panic to desperation, and he blurted, "I love you!"

Enjolras located the foothold and everything stopped. He forgot where they were and what he was meant to be doing, staring at the man beneath him in a state of awe while the silent wind blew between them.

And Grantaire, once he'd started, couldn't seem to stop himself.

"Damn it, Enjolras, I love you. I have for ages. That's why I never bring anyone to meetings and that's why I always make a right idiot out of myself in front of you. That's why I argue. I can't bring myself to interact with you any other way because it's fucking painful. That's why I stick around and mope and drink and that's why I really hope you'll do the smart thing and just let go and save yourself because oh my god, I don't think I can face you after this anyway."

Enjolras gaped for exactly half a second. And then an almost familiar fire blazed through his mind and he looked down and _lifted._ He got Grantaire a half-body's length higher before Combeferre appeared out of the forest and saw them.

"Oh my God!" He ran over while shouting for their friends and taking hold of Grantaire's other arm.

Between the two of them their strength was increased, but it was still an awkward angle. They were having problems until Jehan burst out of the trees and ran over, taking Grantaire by the shirt and hauling him onto solid ground.

Combeferre sat back in shock but before anyone could even collect themselves, Enjolras was flying past Jehan into a violent embrace with Grantaire.

The artist, taken aback, was slow to return the motion, but as soon as his arms regained function he was hugging Enjolras with equal vigor.

Enjolras pulled slightly back after a minute, and in his weariness and relief his face was far more unguarded than normal. They were still kneeling on the ground and were closer, face to face, than they'd probably ever been. Enjolras forced a hand back through his tangled locks, seemingly distraught.

"God... you... I thought..."

Grantaire couldn't yet speak.

Enjolras visibly collected himself for a moment. But then something seemed to register with him and he exploded just as the rest of their friends appeared, having been summoned by text message in the middle of their collective search.

"The _'smart thing?'_ You fucking _moron!_ "

At the outburst, Courfeyrac moved to interfere. But Combeferre shook his head, watching the unfolding scene with sharp eyes.

Enjolras tugged at the hair by his temple, eyes never leaving Grantaire, who was being uncharacteristically quiet.

"You didn't actually think I'd - after _that?_ Please explain to me how that would be the _smart_ thing to do."

"Well," Grantaire finally said, with a shadow of his normal smirk, "then you wouldn't have to deal with me."

Enjolras, despite the leaves in his hair and dirt on his clothes, was filling with a tangible sense of righteous anger, and he had never looked more like marble. His face was a solid plane, and more than one person flinched in preparation for an outburst.

But then the unexpected occurred.

He cracked.

His marble, tired of the strain, caved in. He looked to Grantaire with unnaturally bright eyes and crawled even closer to the man.

"I would never want that," he whispered. "And if I've ever - _God,_ Grantaire, if I have _ever_ done anything to make you think that I would... I am so, so sorry."

Grantaire stared at him; at his electrifying eyes, seeing nothing but sincerity and feeling something deep, deep within his chest crack open and shift.

"I..."

Enjolras moved forward and put a hand on Grantaire's neck, under his jaw. "You are so valuable, Grantaire, to all of us. And... I'm going to prove it to you. I can't stand the thought of you having anything but l- _acceptance_ , at least, for yourself because... because what you said... just now.... I - you might not be the only one who feels that way."

Grantaire was motionless for two seconds. And then he jerked backwards and tried to stand but remembered quite forcefully that hey, he'd been shot, and fell to his backside.

"Grantaire!"

Enjolras moved forward but Joly was already in motion and reached the felled man first. He'd noticed the blood as soon as he'd come into the clearing but hadn't done anything due to a fear of breaking the moment (although he had next to no idea what it was about).

But now he was in full-on Doctor Mode, snapping a hand up when Enjolras got too close and motioning for Combeferre to handle him. The other man did so, approaching their leader with caution and setting a hand on his shoulder, speaking to him soothingly.

Grantaire was pale now, staying motionless as his adrenaline drained and the full impact of his injury hit him all at once.

"What happened?" Joly asked, clipped but not unfriendly.

"I've been shot," Grantaire responded, eyebrows lifted at the insanity of the statement.

"You've..." Joly's hands momentarily stilled where they were pulling at the material of Grantaire's jeans. " _Shot?_ "

"Yep. Some idiot must've mistaken us for a seriously ugly deer. That or he was actually trying to kill us, in which case he has terrible aim." His statement trailed off into a high, sarcastic laugh, pain starting to affect him. He idly noticed that his shands were shaking

Joly allowed himself three seconds of shock and anger before taking a breath and snapping open the small med kit he'd brought along in anticipation of the worst.

"Okay, Grantaire, deep breaths. The bullet hit your leg, so yeah, it's painful but it shouldn't have any serious or lasting effects." Silently, Joly prayed he wasn't lying. Sure, it was in his leg but there was still all sorts of complications that could occur. Infection, nerve damage, muscle death - Joly shook his head and focused on cutting open Grantaire's jeans. "Hey, I thought I said deep breaths. Come on, I've seen you with worse than this after a boxing match - get yourself together."

Grantaire shifted, driving both hands into the ground. "Yeah, nice try, J-Joly, but I don't think so."

"Oh, I don't know, this isn't so..."

Everyone quieted. They hadn't been loud before, but at Joly's ominous lack of words they stilled completely.

"What is it?" Enjolras demanded, still being held back by Combeferre.

"I just... It's nothing really, just that... there's no exit wound."

"So they'll just... take it out at the hospital, right?" Jehan asked, voice quiet.

Joly nodded and resumed movement. "Yes, of course. I am sorry, it just took me by surprise."

He poured alcohol over the wound, steadfastly ignoring the protests from the sufferer. After that, there wasn't much he could do but bind it and hope for the best until he could receive proper treatment.

"Okay," he started, and Enjolras was immediately at his side.

"I'm helping him back."

He left no room for compromise, and no one was willing to protest.

"All right. Support his right side - try to keep his foot off the ground."

Enjolras nodded and crouched down beside Grantaire, who'd gone quiet a minute ago and was now staring up at the trees, skin clammy.

"Grantaire," Enjolras said quietly, gently picking up his arm and pulling it over his shoulders. "Hey. I'm sorry for... whatever I said just now that freaked you out. Let's deal with that later. Right now I need you to stand up with me and get back to the cars and get you help."

Grantaire managed a weak smile as he forced himself up next to Enjolras, leaning heavily on the other man.

"Never thought you'd... have a bedside manner."

"Should I take offense to that?" Enjolras questioned, an eyebrow raised in mock-serious pensiveness even as he slid his gaze over to Combeferre, who'd gotten out his cellphone and was speaking quietly to someone on the other end.

Grantaire didn't notice, instead replying to the query with a mumbled, "you're too high for such a lowly task."

"I'll have you know I've never partaken in drug use of any kind," Enjolras replied haughtily.

"Did you just try to make a joke, Apollo?"

Enjolras pouted. "Try? I'd say it was pretty successful."

Grantaire half-shrugged. "Oh, I suppose. I might have even chuckled if I wasn't so focused on not screaming."

Enjolras quieted, stern brow lowering in consternation. "It hurts that much?"

Briefly looking upward, as though to collect himself, Grantaire nodded. His skin was shining with sweat. "It's pretty bad." He was breathless, and Enjolras felt his chest tightening.

"Well we... we don't have far to go."

"You fucking liar." But Grantaire was at least trying to smile.

Trying, anyway, until his leg brushed against a stiff bush and his other gave out almost immediately, pain tearing a shout from his throat. Enjolras clutched at him, confused and panicked, but was only able to cushion Grantaire's fall to the ground.

Joly and Combeferre were there in an instant, Combeferre still on his phone, talking to who Enjolras now realized must be Emergency Services.

"Yes, he just collapsed, we aren't going to make it to the road... I'm sorry, how long?"

Enjolras blocked him out. He blocked out Joly, fussing again with Grantaire's leg. The rest of their friends briefly faded out of existence, and Grantaire found himself in the terrifying clutches of Enjolras' focused, passionate gaze.

(And how had he not noticed before how closely related 'passion' and 'compassion' are? Enjolras wasn't marble or untouchable; he would have no motivation for change were that the case. He was not bereft of love. Rather, he had far too much of it and no way to show it but to share it among the entire nation's peoples.)

Two hands were suddenly on Grantaire's cheeks and then Enjolras was leaning closer, stopping only when their faces were mere centimeters away. It was hard to focus on how much pain he was in when Enjolras' eyes and lips and nose and _lips_ were so close.

"Hey," he said, quietly and with a strange friendliness. "Hey, look at me."

"Kinda impossible not to," Grantaire admitted, breathless.

"Good. Focus on me, then. Right here, right now. You know you're important, right, Grantaire?"

"What?"

"You're _important._ To a lot of people. And I need you to remember that."

Grantaire breathed out shakily, briefly shutting his eyes. "Why?"

Enjolras waited until he could see the blue of the other man's irises before answering. "Because. You're... incredible. You're a good man, Grantaire. You are smart and stubborn and beautiful and talented and I _can't stand_ you not realizing that. This isn't about you becoming a cause. This isn't even about me, even though it fucking kills me to see you less than happy and I'm sorry I've only just recently understood what that might mean. But no.... This is about _you_ , and what you deserve." He leaned down further, closing the distance between them by pressing his forehead to Grantaire's.

"Okay?"

It was a moment before the artist could speak, throat working silently as he stared at the man above him. "I - I can't promise anything."

"I'm not asking for that."

"... I'll try."

"And I'll be there to help you." Enjolras ghosted his lips over Grantaire's brow. "You're going to be okay."

Before Grantaire could ask what exactly _being there to help_ meant, there were people in white coats sweeping into the scene, and Enjolras was pulled away all too soon. That was when the pain started kicking in again, and Grantaire was really far too grateful when they stuck something in his arm and nothing much mattered anymore.

 

* * *

 

Enjolras was pacing.

The other members of their group had ceased movement long ago, now sprawled across most of the chairs in the waiting room and each other, many of them asleep, but Enjolras was pacing. He couldn't seem to stop, mind spinning with revelations and chest heavy with worry.

They'd taken Grantaire into surgery to remove the bullet _hours_ ago. In the time since then, they'd talked to the police about what happened (or at least, Enjolras did, and they promised to come back once Grantaire had woken up even though he didn't know anything more) and Combeferre had gone out with Eponine to get everyone coffee. They'd gotten back ages ago and handed the drinks out, but by that time half of them had already been sleeping and now there were about five mochas congealing in the corner. (There had been seven but Enjolras might have taken advantage. He wasn't going to sleep, anyway.)

It was when Enjolras was completing what was probably his 100th circuit around the room that Jehan caught his arm. He hadn't even realized the poet was awake, but there were frighteningly perceptive pale green eyes pinning him from where Jehan was draped over Courfeyrac's sleeping form.

"Are you all right, Enjolras?"

He waved the concern off. "Of course I am. I'm not the one you should be worrying about."

Jehan smiled, quiet and mildly amused. "He'll be fine, Enjolras. This is nothing they haven't done before. It's just his leg."

"He kickboxes." And suddenly the worry was back. "Jehan, he does so much. He won't be able to kickbox or oh my god didn't Courf say he dances somewhere? His _leg_ , Jehan, it's going to be useless and he's going to be even more miserable-"

"Enjolras," Jehan interrupted, brow lifted knowingly. "Your concern is adorable, but really, he's going to be fine. Especially if what I think happened in those woods happened."

It was an odd statement to make and Enjolras wanted to question him about it, but it was then that the doors to the waiting room opened and all plans flew from Enjolras' mind. The doctor who'd entered took in the scene with lifted eyebrows, and tried to keep his voice quiet when he said,

"Family of a Mr. Grantaire?"

Instantly everyone was alert and moving, sitting or standing or trying to untangle themselves and the doctor looked a litle pale. Enjolras moved forward and everyone froze, listening intently.

"That would be us. News?"

"Your, um, friend is out of surgery. It went very well. The bullet was lodged against his bone but did not break it. There will be very little to no lasting damage as far as we can tell. Recovery will take some time, but with effort and patience there should be no significant negative effects."

All tension drained out of the room and there were whispered exhalations of relief. Enjolras stepped towards the doctor again and asked in a much smaller voice than before,

"Can we see him?"

There was a brief lull, but the white-coated man glanced only for a moment over the tightly-bonded friends and nodded, the air of a smile on his face.

"Yes, of course. But I'm afraid I can only allow two visitors in at a time at this point. And just so you know, he likely won't be awake for some time."

"That's all right. We'd still like to go in."

The doctor nodded, understanding, and waited while there was a brief scramble to push forward Courfeyrac to accompany Enjolras, who seemed to be assuming he'd be going in and was meeting no resistance. Combeferre sent him a reassuring smile as they left the room.

The two were quiet as they followed the doctor to Grantaire's room. He opened the door and stepped aside, giving them both a polite nod before letting them file in and leaving them be.

It was quiet in the room for a few minutes, the only sound their breathing and the scrape of Courfeyrac pulling over a chair to sit in. Enjolras chose to continue standing for the moment, hesitantly approaching the bed and laying a hand beside Grantaire's arm, fingers absently stroking the sheet.

Courfeyrac eyed him for a moment, lips twitching into a smile before he spoke.

"So what happened?"

Enjolras didn't look away from Grantaire as his other hand clenched. "What do you mean?"

"Oh come on now, Enjolras. You know what I mean. What happened between you two while you were lost?"

"I... we... I don't know, Courfeyrac. We talked. We walked. We nearly died multiple times. We... bonded."

"Bonded?"

And now a light blush could be seen on Enjolras' cheeks. "Yes. I had perhaps not realized until now what a resource Grantaire was. No, that's not true. I've always known he was better than what he lets us see, but... now I have proof."

Courfeyrac didn't reply, and when Enjolras chanced a look at him his smirk had turned gentler.

"You care for him."

It wasn't a question. Enjolras could only nod.

"And are you going to act on your feelings?"

Enjolras moved his hand to cover Grantaire's and huffed out a quiet laugh. "I think I already have."

Courfeyrac lifted an eyebrow but chose not to comment on his phrasing. He instead noted the heart monitor's beeping increase in frequency and the pale, calloused hand on the bed twitch. Enjolras was too focused on Grantaire's still face to realize anything had changed, and Courfeyrac smirked again as he stood.

"I left my coffee outside. I'm going to get it. Be right back."

Enjolras just nodded. Courfeyrac slipped out the door and he was yet again alone with Grantaire. He hesitated only briefly before bringing a hand up to rest in the artist's curls, gaze softening.

"You baffle me," came his muttered confession.

He wasn't expecting Grantaire to shift on the bed, hand almost unconsciously gripping the one Enjolras had above his, eyelids twitching.

"Grantaire?" Enjolras leaned forward, heart jumping. "Grantaire. You can wake up now."

The bedridden man twitched again, eyes opening slowly to focus on Enjolras. His lips curled lazily upward.

"Well hello there, Sunshine."

Enjolras blinked. "Um, hello. Are you... are you feeling all right?"

"I'm feeling _awesome._ Did you know that you're really beautiful?"

Enjolras chuckled self-consciously. "I don't think the drugs they gave you have quite worn off."

"Maybe not," Grantaire agreed. "I feel like it should hurt more."

"Your leg?"

Grantaire made a _pfft_ noise. "Everything."

A weight punched through Enjolras' sternum, and his grip on Grantaire's hand tightened. "It doesn't have to hurt."

"Yes it does. I think it hurts less with you, though. Or at least, hurts in a different way." Grantaire paused, and then giggled.

"What?" Enjolras questioned, quirking a smile.

In answer, Grantaire quietly began to sing. "Your love, your love, your love, is my drug..."

 

* * *

 

"How is he?" Jehan asked as soon as Courfeyrac entered the lobby, and the brunette blushed.

"Um, I'm not... entirely sure. I mean, he's fine! Totally fine. I just didn't actually stay in the room when he woke up. I, um, thought they might have some things to talk about."

"Why, Courfeyrac," Combeferre needled. "Do I detect a mearsure of tact in you?"

"What? No! I just don't fancy seeing the melodramatic scene that's no doubt unfolding. Seeing Enjolras get _sappy_ might actually give me nightmares."

Jehan approached him and leaned into his side. "Of course it woud." He kissed the side of Courf's neck. "You're sweet when you need to be."

 

* * *

 

 

It was nearly three hours later when Grantaire was finally awake and undrugged enough to have a proper conversation. Combeferre had been chatting quietly with Enjolras but excused himself when Grantaire began to stir. (This had become the pattern with all their friends in the last bit of time.)

Enjolras waited until Grantaire had opened his eyes and noticed him with a clear gaze, looking much more alert than the last few times.

"... Enjolras?" He asked softly.

"Yeah," was the reply, equally quiet.

Grantaire shifted. The motion made him aware of the fact that their hands were clasped together. He stared down at the entwined digits for nearly a minute before finally trying to pull away, but Enjolras only held tighter. And then he forced his gaze back up to Enjolras', eyes wide.

"You're holding my hand."

"I'm well aware of that."

"Why are you holding my hand?" Grantaire looked around and then blanched. "Oh God, am I dying?"

"Grantaire," Enjolras said, half amused and half concerned. "You're not dying. Don't you remember what happened?"

"Well, I - I was shot?"

"Yes..." Enjolras affirmed, awaiting the rest.

Grantaire sunk into the bed, somehow shying away without really moving. "Pretty sure we almost fell off a cliff and our friends saved us, but that's where my memory becomes unreliable and I'm thinking I must have gone into shock because... well. It'd make more sense for thsoe to be near-death delusions than reality."

"Grantaire," Enjolras interrupted, pained. "They weren't delusions."

"But then..."

"You promised me something," Enjolras said, face severe but eyes soft.

"I - I can't - I don't..."

" _Grantaire_." And Enjolras was suddenly much closer, and his hand was on Grantaire's jaw. "It's okay."

They moved together and all of a sudden their lips were caught in a motion tender and chaste and full of... something. Something long-felt and unacknowledged.

The kiss lingered for several long moments and was only broken when Grantaire fell away from it, gasping despite the innocent nature of their action.

"You kissed me."

"I believe we kissed each other. Stop stating the obvious."

"I will continue to do so until I can believe it."

Enjolras chuckled and pulled back to press another kiss to Grantaire's nose, causing a shocking blush to spread across the artist's cheeks.

"You're, um... wow. You're serious about this?"

Rather than answering directly, Enjolras lifted Grantaire's hand and nosed at his knuckles, pensive.

"I like you," he stated plainly. "A lot."

"As of...?"

At that, Enjolras winced. "I don't know. I... have never denied your physical attributes, and... You've _always_ been... different. I just didn't quite know _why_ until more recently."

Grantaire smiled, small but joyfully, and briefly looked away. "So..." He bit his lip. "Do you want to go out sometime?"

Enjolras' smile was answer enough, and to Grantaire, absolutely worth any bullet to the leg.

 

* * *

 

It wasn't long after then that Grantaire was released from the hospital, sown and bandaged up, with drugs and instructions for as much rest as possible.

It went largely assumed, then, that there was to be a grand celebration of both Enjolras and Grantaire's safe rescue and the latter's recovery. The entire group, along with the additions of Marius and Cosette, now back from their family emergency, followed Enjolras' Subaru to his spacious downtown apartment. He'd bought it for weekends, breaks, and meetings/parties with the leftover from his allowance and income that didn't go towards charities.

The doctors had been quite clear about Grantaire's need for a companion in the coming weeks. He'd need to rest and recuperate, they said, and would require a constant helper to keep him comfortable and well cared for. Having no immediate family members or nearby friends with that kind of time, he'd assumed he'd be managing on his own (as he always had), perhaps with the occasional visit from one of the group.

Enjolras had rather violently disagreed with this assumption.

They were now approaching his apartment building. As he stopped the car, Enjolras opened his door, stepping quickly out and circling around to assist Grantaire, who immediately rolled his eyes and resisted his attempts, clambering out of the small car.

"I appreciate your chivalry, _Sir Enjolras_ , but I'm not helpless. Please don't hover, it's unbecoming on everyone else and it isn't fair to them for you to look so lovely doing it."

He pulled his cane off the dashboard and tapped it on the ground, a smirk tugging at his features.

He'd been pretty overjoyed when the hospital had gifted him with the classy alternative to a single crutch, but his reaction had been overshadowed by Courfeyrac's, who'd shouted at him about his relation to some TV doctor and almost stolen the damn thing.

"Sorry," Enjolras sighed, backing off. "I just... you know, I don't want you to hurt yourself further."

"Believe me, I do not enjoy pain and will do nothing to 'further' what I already have." He went wordless for a moment as they approached the apartment building, peering sideways at Enjolras. "Gotta say though, you being worried is pretty endearing."

Enjolras sputtered, but before he could construct a full sentence they were being ambushed by the rest of their friends.

"Grantaire!" Jehan cried. "How gentlemanly you look."

"I look like shit, Jehan," Grantaire corrected, ignoring Enjolras' glare. "I just got out of the hospital."

Enjolras unlocked his door and shoved it open, stepping back to allow Grantaire access before letting all of his friends through. They filed into his admittedly posh loft and were quick to spread themselves about.

They stayed the next few hours, settling into a more subdued version of their normal get togethers, chatting happily and occasionally falling into easy debates. Enjolras produced a few bottles of sparkling cider and they passed them around. Grantaire mentioned only once his yearning for a 'stronger drink' and quickly silenced himself at the hurt look that passed across Enjolras' face.

Combeferre was the first to leave, begging off with Eponine after saying something about an 'early morning.' After that, the others were quick to go, Cosette and Marius taking their leave to make the long drive back to Cosette's father's house, Bahorel and Feuilly exiting together to hit the nearest pub, and Bossuet, Joly, and Musichetta taking off with nothing more than cheeky smiles and a wink from the latter.

Courfeyrac and Jehan were the last to go, the poet approaching Grantaire to give him a hug before they left.

"Get some rest! Don't have too much fun with Enjolras and pop your stitches."

They ran off before the statement fully registered, and it was only after they were left in an empty penthouse that Grantaire turned, blushing, to Enjolras.

"Um, so... I can totally sleep out here, I-"

He stopped talking as Enjolras planted himself on the seat beside him, setting a hand on the thigh of his injured leg. It had been propped up on a long footstool and generously padded with pillows.

"Grantaire," he said, mildly exasperated. "You are _not_ sleeping on the couch. You're injured." He paused, surveying Grantaire and cocking his head. "I don't mind sharing if you don't."

Grantaire sucked in a breath. "Sharing... a bed?"

"Yeah." Enjolras shrugged. "It's big enough for three people, probably. And there'd be nothing untoward... at least, not while you're hurt." Enjolras smiled with just an edge of mischief and Grantaire felt his heart stutter.

"Okay," he managed. "I mean, it's your bed, so... as long as you don't mind..."

Enjolras stood, apparently happy with the answer. "Of course I don't. It's... more than I'd hoped for, actually."

"What do you mean?"

"Well I - I know this whole thing has been a long time coming, but I didn't expect to be sleeping with you so soon."

Surprised, Grantire snorted a laugh, and the grin it got from Enjolras was blinding. He picked up a bit of clutter but left most of the cleaning for the morning in favor of getting Grantaire settled. He retrieved the cane from where it was leaning against the coffee table and helped him up, waiting patiently for all the cramps that came with two and a half hours of sitting to ease. He led them through a short hallway into a large, sleek room.

It was sparsely furnished and lined with panel glass windows that overlooked the city. Enjolras hadn't been lying when he'd said the bed was likely to fit three people. Grantaire thought that might have been a conservative estimate. It was one of those beds you always imagined to be in bachelor pads, low to the ground and made up in dark maroon fabric.

"So, Eponine left your bag of stuff she'd brought to the hospital. I don't know if it has any sleep clothes in it. I have some extras if you need them. They'd be a little long but..."

"It's all right," Grantaire assured, amused. "I"ll just take my jeans off. I'll be comfortable. Half the time I sleep in my clothes, anyway. Time has a habit of getting away from me."

"I know how that goes." Enjolras stepped away, detouring to a dresser before heading to the attached bathroom. "Take whichever side is comfortable. I'll be right out - yell if you need anything."

Grantaire nodded, and after another moment, Enjolras disappeared, presumably to ready himself for sleep. Grantaire shuffled his feet by the foot of the bed, biting his lip. This was Enjolras' bed. He was going to _sleep with Enjolras._

He moved hesitantly to the left side of the bed, sitting down and setting his cane aside. He idly noticed that his hands were shaking.

"Shit."

He blew out a long breath. Shaking his head, he cleared his thoughts and undid his pants, making quick work of his button and zipper. The strain of leaning down to pull them off, however, proved to be too painful, and he sat back with a bitten-off curse.

"Let me help."

Enjolras came out of nowhere, and Grantaire jumped at his quiet voice. The blond stepped in front of him, looking somewhat abashed. He was in soft-looking sleep pants and was shirtless.

"Sorry. I saw you struggling. Let me help?" He repeated, as a question this time.

"I, um... Yeah. Okay."

Enjolras kneeled down and reached for Grantaire's waistband. He noticed the other man's apparent discomfort and pulled the material off quickly and efficiently.

"We've already seen each other mostly naked, right? This is nothing." He tried to make light of it, but he couldn't stop himself from keeping his hand around Grantaire's ankle once he'd removed his jeans, fascinated by the texture of his skin and structure of his bones even while he continued to look into his eyes.

It was a strange moment, and one that should have, by all rights, been awkward. But when Grantaire scooted forward, and Enjolras moved his hand from ankle to knee to hip, and their lips were drawn to each other like it was the most natural thing they'd ever done, well... _awkward_ was the last word on either of their minds.

"Sorry," Enjoras said as soon as he managed to break away. "Sorry, I just-" he laughed. "You're so _close_."

Grantaire laced his hands behind Enjolras' neck. "Don't apologize. God." He pressed another light kiss to Enjolras' lips. "Never apologize for - for _kissing_ me. Jesus. I still can't believe you _want_ to."

Rather than falling back on his valued words in response, Enjolras chose action. If Grantaire didn't believe Enjolras wanted to kiss him, he would just have to keep doing it until he did. He set both hands on either side of Grantaire, pressing in and forcing the other man back with lips and the beginnings of tongue.

Grantaire gave in rather easily, falling back on the bed. Enjolras took advantage, hitching both hands under Grantaire's knees and transferring them fully onto the wide mattress, ever mindful of Grantaire's wound. He started speaking again, punctuating every word with a kiss.

"You-" a kiss to the cheekbone - "are-" kiss to the brow - "so-" to the chin - "important." He slid down further, nose rubbing at Grantaire's throbbing pulse point. "You. Are. _Gorgeous._ " His hands snuck underneath Grantaire's shirt and caressed his sharp hipbones. "I want you."

" _Fuck_ ," Grantaire managed, lifting his arms so Enjolras could strip off his shirt.

He tossed the piece of clothing away but then froze with his hands against Grantaire's sides. The other man stopped moving beneath him, eyes going wide and apprehensive. With his cheeks flushed as they were and his eyes dark with desire, Enjolras found him nothing short of delectable, even with his current nervous expression. But he looked infinitely better relaxed and happy ( _or falling apart beneath you with your name on his lips,_ his brain helpfully supplied. He shut it down quickly.), and Enjolras was quick to reassure him.

"Sorry, I'm not - I want this. _Badly._ But I - you're hurt, Grantaire. Jehan was having fun but he was also right. We could make things worse and I can't cause you any more pain."

Grantaire dropped his head back onto the bed, groaning. He shifted his hips uncomfortably and with him as close as he was to Enjolras, it was impossible for the blond not to feel his affectedness. He gasped at the unintended friction and looked down at Grantaire, flustered.

"Grantaire, we shouldn't - should _nnn_ -"

Grantaire smiled wickedly at Enjolras from where he was deliberately grinding his hips up, and Enjolras' mouth fell briefly open. But he snapped it shut just as quickly, a fierce expression coming over his face. He took both of Grantaire's wrists in hand and pinned them above their heads, dipping down into a hard, deep kiss.

"All right," he said after pulling away, lips bright red. "Fine. If you don't want to wait, we won't. But," and here he sat back on Grantaire, keeping him bodily pinned. "Here's the deal. I do all the work. You even think about exerting yourself and we don't even try this until those stitches are a scar."

At Grantaire's expression, it was Enjolras' turn to smile with a tinge of malice. He let Grantaire's hands go and lowered himself to the artist's waist, licking a strip up one hipbone as he slipped his fingers underneath a tight waistband. Grantaire's breath hitched as his hips did, and Enjolras smiled against his abdomen.

He pulled Grantaire's boxers off with deliberate casualness, pulling them slowly down his legs and dropping them to the floor. He took his time coming back up, dragging his hands over Grantaire's calves and thighs before leaving them to rest in the grooves between legs and torso.

Grantaire almost whined, writhing once before stopping when Enjolras put a hand on his stomach, directly above his erection.

"Don't move. No work, remember?"

Enjolras lifted a brow and grinned, and Grantaire would have snapped at him had he not chosen that time to duck down and lick his cock from base to tip.

Grantaire drew in a loud, shuddering breath and let it out just as shakily, hands clenching the dark bedspread. Enolras looked up at him and licked his lips. He peered at Grantaire for a moment, assessing, and then spoke lowly.

"I like having my hair pulled."

Grantaire's hands all but flew to Enjolras' head, nesting themselves in his thick, golden curls. He held them there a moment, waiting while Enjolras climbed up to kiss him, and then gave a sharp, experimental tug.

Enjolras made a helpless noise into his mouth and _okay_ , as if he wasn't turned on enough already...

Enjolras pulled away and shifted back down, this time making no delays before he took Grantaire into his mouth, sinking more than halfway down his length. Grantaire threw his head back, sucking air in through his teeth. Enjolras bobbed his head, tongue flicking over his slit, and Grantaire moaned, trembling with both the zeal running through his veins and the effort it took to keep still.

Encouraged by the sound, Enjolras moved further forward, swallowing Grantaire further down and sucking in earnest. Grantaire knew he wasn't going to last long at this point, entirely overwhelmed, and pulled harder on Enjolras' hair. It made him groan and the sound along with the vibration it caused shoved him over the edge and sent him hurtling into ecstacy. He came with his hands clasped tight to Enjolras' scalp, strung tight as a bowstring before falling into bonelessness on the beautiful scarlet sheets.

Enjolras pulled off of him and chuckled softly; fondly. He crawled over Grantaire and pressed dry lips to his collarbone. Grantaire managed to gather his wits enough to take his arms and drag him up further, guiding their lips together while he crept a hand into Enjolras' pyjama bottoms. He wrapped his long fingers around Enjolras' erection and was rewarded with a full-body jerk, a surprised ' _ah_ ' falling from swollen lips. Enjolras shifted on his arms, breathing shallow.

"Y-you don't have to-"

"Shut up, Enjolras. You really think I'd leave you to relieve yourself when _I_ could do it? I don't even have to move my leg."

That seemed to settle him, and he didn't protest as Grantaire shoved his pants out of the way before taking him in hand again, starting to pull along his shaft with not _nearly_ enough friction.

"Grantaire," he growled, and the artist laughed and relented, picking up the pace and strength of his movements. The next time Enjolras hissed 'Grantaire' it was with a _much_ different tone.

"God - _fuck_ \- don't stop." He littered kisses to Grantaire's red face, moving his hips in rhythm with the hand working him over. "Ah - _R..._ "

Grantaire was staring at him with a look close to rapture. He pumped his hand faster, straining up to nip at Enjolras' neck, and the blond cried out, hips stuttering.

He came with nonsense on his lips and brightness in his eyes, brought to heights he'd never reached before by the amusement and outright affection in Grantaire's eyes.

He made sure to fall next to Grantaire rather than on top of him, sinking into the mattress and wrapping both arms around the man beside him. He allowed himself a minute to recover, but then he was moving, forcing himself off the bed and into the bathroom. He grabbed the softest towel he could find and brought it out, but stopped short at the foot of the bed.

Grantaire was laying back into the pillows, looking sleepy and well-sated. His dark hair was an effective complement to Enjolras' sheets and his skin was a delicious contrast. He looked disheveled and at home, and something in Enjolras' chest growled possessively. The growl grew louder when he spotted his release laying in stripes across Grantaire's chest and stomach.

If he hadn't literally just gotten off, he would have been getting hard again. As it was, his cock still managed to twitch with interest, and by that time Grantaire was looking at him. He noticed the reaction and a proud little smirk crawled onto his features.

"Shut up," Enjolras muttered as he eased himself back onto the bed, using the towel to clean Grantaire up.

After, he tossed the cloth away and pulled all his bed covers down, nudging Grantaire to one side and laying close behind him before tugging a few of them back up. He settled a pillow behind Grantaire's injured calf and the pulled the other man into him, tucking his chin over Grantaire's head.

They fell asleep like that, warm and content as the world righted itself around them.

 

* * *

 

Long after that night, they were making their way into the Musain, a local haunt they'd all come to frequent. Courfeyrac spotted the two, brushing snow off each other and clasping hands, and grinned.

"Hey! Lovebirds!"

They looked towards him and waved before starting over.

"Hi, Courf," Enjolras greeted serenely. "Jehan. Where's everyone else?"

Jehan approached and kissed them both on the cheeks. "Darlings. They haven't arrived yet. You guys are early for once."

"Shocking, isn't it?"

Grantaire sunk into one of the wooden chairs around the three tables they'd pushed together, his smile growing as he gave a sharp tug on Enjolras' hand to pull him into his lap. Jehan beamed at them and Courfeyrac rolled his eyes. Enjolras scoffed but didn't move, propping his feet up on the seat across from him.

The rest of their group sauntered in at various times, and within the next hour they were all together, gathered around their tables with various drinks in front of them. There was a muffled cacophony of conversations sailing through the air, but it quieted a bit once when Courfeyrac turned to Enjolras with a bright gleam in his eyes.

"So, there's something happening in a week, but I'll be damned if I can remember what it is..."

His smile grew mischievous, but Enjolras only smirked at him. "Might you be referring to the first anniversary of Grantaire and I getting our shit together?"

Mildly surprised, Courf only nodded. Normally Enjolras could hardly remember his own birthday, let alone any other significant dates. Grantaire nuzzled Enjolras' neck, hiding his blush.

"Any plans?" Cosette asked, blinking curious eyes.

Enjolras was answering her question, but his eyes were only on Grantaire when he casually said,

"Well, I was thinking we could go camping."

More than one person looked over at their corner when the group fell into delighted laughter.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This has been such a labor of love. I hope it brought smiles to your no doubt gorgeous faces.
> 
> Loose end:  
> \- story canon says that the guy who shot at them was drunk. grantaire feels the irony and cuts himself off early next time they go to the bar. it's not as hard as he expected, what with enjolras looking like congratulatory sex is definitely in order.
> 
> I read through this multiple times, but I don't have a beta, so if you see any mistakes please let me know! 
> 
> Check out my tumblr ( jehansmuse.tumblr.com ) for other writings/bonus scenes (read: relationship development through porn). I also have a twitter if you'd like to follow my daily ramblings/writing woes/fic progress. My handle is on my blog. 
> 
> Love to you all!


End file.
